“There’s another instinct, too,” he went on, “in a state of suppression, unless I’m very much mistaken; a child-expelling instinct. “Let me see,” he said. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire. I want to be a human being; I want to learn about things and know about things, and not to be protected as something too precious for life, cooped up in one narrow little corner. "Nothing—nothing," she answered, bursting into tears. ‘That piece of information seemed to interest him very much. Hitherto she had seen it chiefly in pictures and other works of art, incidentally, and as a thing taken out of life. ‘Lord, no! I’ve a better regard for my skin, I thank you.
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